Into the Blackwood

The trees loomed like silent sentinels at the edge of the village. Their twisted trunks and gnarled roots writhed together, forming a dark wall that swallowed the first rays of morning light. To Ruvan, they looked like the gateway to some other world, a place beyond warmth, beyond hope.

He stumbled across the frost-hardened field, blood dripping from cuts on his arms and face. His breathing came in ragged gasps, each breath scraping like iron against his throat. Marrick half-carried him, though the old man's own steps were uneven and weak.

Behind them, the village burned.

Smoke curled into the pale dawn sky, carrying with it the scent of charred flesh and the echoes of dying screams. Raiders still shouted to each other, searching the wreckage for anything worth stealing or burning. Their savage voices carried across the silent fields.

"Hurry," Marrick urged, his voice hoarse. "If we can reach the tree line, they might lose our trail."

Ruvan said nothing. His eyes remained fixed on the forest ahead, seeing nothing but the memory of Lira's outstretched hand, her small fingers clutching his in terror. The sound of her dying gasp haunted his ears louder than the raiders' shouts.

He would carry her voice forever.

They reached the first trees just as a harsh bark split the cold morning air behind them. Ruvan flinched. Marrick turned sharply.

"Dogs," he whispered. "They've released the hounds."

Ruvan forced his gaze to the village outskirts. Figures in wolfskin cloaks appeared, urging forward huge black hunting dogs on thick leather leashes. The beasts snarled and snapped, their red eyes wild with hunger. Their handlers pointed towards the forest, shouting guttural commands.

"They're coming," Ruvan rasped.

Marrick grabbed his arm. "Then we run."

They plunged into the Blackwood. Shadows swallowed them instantly. The canopy above was so dense that the rising sun barely filtered through in dull grey streaks. Thorny underbrush clawed at their legs as they scrambled over fallen logs and ducked under low-hanging boughs.

Behind them, the dogs barked louder, closer now, their paws thudding against damp earth. The forest floor was littered with rotting leaves and moss-covered stones. Each step threatened to trip Ruvan, but he forced himself to keep going, ignoring the pain lancing up his calves.

"Faster, lad," Marrick urged. "We must outpace them before they catch our scent."

Ruvan bit down on his lip until he tasted blood. He pushed himself harder, weaving between massive oaks and ash trees. Branches whipped against his face, leaving red welts across his cheeks. Every laboured breath felt like it tore open his chest.

A fallen pine blocked their path. Marrick struggled to climb over it, his old knees trembling. Ruvan grabbed him by the waist and hoisted him up, then scrambled over himself. They dropped on the other side, panting.

For a moment, silence. Only their harsh breaths and the whisper of leaves in the cold breeze.

Then, a snarl.

One of the dogs had leapt the pine trunk with a single bound. Its black fur bristled, saliva dripping from its yellow fangs as it lunged at Marrick's leg.

"NO!"

Ruvan snatched up a broken branch and swung it with all his strength. The wood cracked against the beast's snout. It yelped but didn't retreat, circling low, hackles raised. Another hound burst from the undergrowth, eyes glowing red in the dim light.

"Marrick, RUN!" Ruvan shouted.

The old man staggered to his feet, clutching a nearby sapling for balance. He took a single step before a third dog emerged, cutting off his escape. Raiders' voices grew louder in the distance, shouting commands in their guttural language.

The first hound lunged again. Ruvan met it head-on, swinging his branch like a sword. The beast dodged aside at the last moment, its teeth grazing his thigh. Pain flared up his leg as warm blood soaked his trousers.

He screamed but didn't stop. He reversed his grip on the branch and thrust it forward, jabbing the sharpened end into the dog's eye. The beast shrieked and fell back, writhing on the forest floor.

The second hound lunged for Marrick's throat. The old man raised his arms to block, but the beast's weight drove him backwards. They fell together with a bone-cracking thud. Marrick screamed as the dog's jaws snapped shut on his forearm.

"MARRICK!" Ruvan shouted, limping towards them.

He grabbed a fist-sized rock from the ground and smashed it against the dog's skull. Once. Twice. Three times. Bone cracked under the impact. The hound slumped lifelessly onto Marrick's chest.

The old man lay still, staring up at the pale slivers of sky between the branches. Blood gushed from his shredded arm, soaking into the dead leaves below.

"Ruvan…" he whispered weakly.

"I'm here." Ruvan fell to his knees beside him. "Stay with me. Please."

Marrick's eyes were distant, unfocused. "I… I can't feel… my legs…"

"We'll stop the bleeding. I'll carry you. We'll find shelter—"

"Listen to me, lad." Marrick's fingers curled around Ruvan's wrist. His grip was frail but urgent. "You have to run. They're coming. Leave me. Save yourself."

"No!" Tears blurred Ruvan's vision. "I won't leave you. I won't."

Marrick smiled faintly. His lips trembled as he coughed up blood. "You're a good boy… Ferric always said… you'd be the best of us…"

Footsteps thudded through the undergrowth. Raiders appeared between the trees, their wolfskin cloaks blending with the shadows. They grinned when they saw Marrick bleeding on the ground and Ruvan kneeling beside him.

One of them raised a spear, pointing it at Ruvan's chest.

"RUN!" Marrick screamed, his voice suddenly fierce with dying strength. "RUUUN!"

Ruvan hesitated only a moment longer, then shoved himself to his feet and turned, bolting deeper into the forest. Spears whistled past him, burying themselves in tree trunks. Arrows hissed overhead. He ducked under low branches, ignoring the agony in his leg, pushing himself until his vision swam with black spots.

Behind him, Marrick's dying cries rang out, followed by a sickening silence.

Ruvan stumbled on a tree root and fell hard onto damp moss. He scrambled to his feet and kept running, each step feeling like molten iron being poured into his veins. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing with blood and sweat.

Forgive me, Marrick… please forgive me…

The forest grew darker around him. Thick vines and towering trunks blocked out all traces of daylight. Crows took flight from the canopy, cawing angrily as he stumbled past.

Finally, when his legs could carry him no further, he collapsed against the base of a massive oak. His chest heaved. Every breath burned like fire. His ears rang with the phantom cries of Marrick, Ferric, Lira – everyone he could not save.

He curled into himself, pressing his forehead against his bloody knees.

In the suffocating darkness of the Blackwood, he whispered a broken promise to no one.

"I will become stronger. Strong enough… to never run again."

Above him, the ancient branches swayed, their leaves whispering secrets of a thousand years to the trembling boy below. Secrets of life, death, and power – if only he could survive long enough to hear them.